Bad Boys of Chaos: The Complete Duet Boxset: Books 1-2

by Marie York

  “Brooklyn!” I yelled as I banged on the door, but there was no answer. “Dammit, Brooklyn, I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.”

  All that greeted me was silence. I reached for the knob and tried my luck. To my surprise the door clicked open. I shoved in ready to attack, but came to a screeching halt.

  Sirens blared in the distance, but all I could focus on was Brooklyn’s husband sprawled out on the floor. His lifeless eyes staring in my direction as Brooklyn kneeled over him holding a bloody knife.

  Blood dripped from the knife that Brooklyn grasped so tightly, and even though I was seeing it as clear as fucking day, I couldn’t believe it. My brain refused to process it.

  I always sensed Brooklyn was a fighter, but not a killer. That wasn’t her. She might have set herself free from that low life piece of shit, but the burden of his death was something she’d have to live with for the rest of her life. I only hoped the kind-hearted girl I knew and grew to love was capable of accepting her role in such a heinous act.

  Guilt was a powerful thing, capable of tearing apart the strongest of people. Brooklyn possessed an incredible inner strength. Surviving God knows how many years of abuse at the hand of the now dead bastard on the floor, and maintaining her dignity and resolve despite it, proved just how strong she was. I just hoped she would be able to hold on to some of that strength to help her get through what was to come.

  I went to her, resting my hand on hers. My touch knocked her out of her catatonic state, and her gaze turned to me. Her one eye was a puffy harsh red that was so swollen she couldn’t even open it. I bit back the anger rising inside of me, since the person I wanted to kill was already dead, and focused on her.

  I never should have let her go. I should have followed her. Protected her. Instead I let my ego get the best of me.

  Her good eye was blank, void of emotion. Darkened by the act she committed, and Karl’s lifeless body beneath her.

  “It’s okay,” I promised, taking in the rest of her injuries. I swiped at the blood pouring from her lip, and she winced. The faint beginnings of bruising around her eyes and both cheeks had my stomach twisting in knots.

  What the fuck did that bastard do to her? She looked like she’d been through a fucking war. Granted, I had seen worse injuries in the cage, but that’s where they belonged! Not in her fucking kitchen! Seeing Brooklyn battered… it provoked something within me I had never felt before; a raging fury that blinded me.

  The bastard was lucky he was dead because, if he wasn’t, I would’ve drove that knife through his heart so fucking fast. “Just let go,” I said, not thinking, and only wanting to rid Brooklyn of this nightmare.

  Her grip loosened, and I took the knife from her. I reached up, tucking one of her many curls behind her ear and taking her in. Examining her more closely, not exactly sure what I was looking for, but needing to know she wasn’t critically injured. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” I said, wishing so badly that I had.

  Regrets were for pussies. At least, that’s what I always believed, until now.

  I never should have let her walk away from me. I should’ve stopped her, instead of saying those awful things. I saw the bruises with my own goddamned eyes. What other proof did I need? Her split lip, the swollen eye, the bruises, every single mark he put on her tonight, was my fault.

  She stepped away from my touch, and stood up, backing away. Panic washed over her face with each step she took. Her hands planted themselves over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. “What did I do?” she whispered, as her body pressed against the wall, and she slumped to the floor. She rocked back and forth, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

  The body wasn’t going anywhere. We would deal with it later. Right now, Brooklyn needed me, and this time, I wasn’t walking away.

  I went to get up and go to her when the door flew open, and several guns pointed at my head. I looked down at the dead bastard, and up to the knife, dripping wet in fresh blood, secured in my hand. This did not look good. Not good at all.

  Fuck.

  “Drop your weapon,” the cop closest to me demanded.

  I let the knife fall to the floor and readied myself to stand.

  “Put your hands where I can see them. Now!”

  I did as the cop said, raising them in front of me. As soon as my hands were in position, the cops moved in, and one grabbed me by the wrists. He spun me around, and my eyes immediately landed on Brooklyn, who now looked even more panicked than before.

  Cold metal pressed against my skin as the cop cuffed me. Brooklyn’s nose twitched and she shook her head. I knew exactly what she was thinking, but she didn’t need the added stress of the cops questioning her right now. I knew it was self-defense, but stupid me grabbed the knife from her, so for now let them fucking think I did it. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being cuffed and hauled out of here like a criminal.

  If anything, she was a hero for disposing the world of a useless asshole who served no real purpose on this earth. I mouthed, “don’t say a word” but she looked at me and shook her head no. I glared at her, trying to make her bend to my will, but all that seemed to do was piss her off.

  She stood up and started shouting at the cops. “Why are you cuffing him? He didn’t do anything! It was me! I killed the bastard! He tried to kill me! Look at me,” she kept yelling. “Look what he fucking did to me.”

  “I can see you are hurt ma’am,” the cop offered. “But he had the knife in his hand. How do we know you’re not trying to cover up for him?”

  “I don’t believe this. Are you guys fucking blind?” Look at him he doesn’t have a scratch on him. I’m telling you he didn’t do it. I want you to take the cuffs off him and put them on me instead,” she insisted.

  “Brooklyn! Please don’t say anything else. This is not getting us anywhere. You need to trust me on this,” I pleaded with her.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Let’s go.” The cop shoved me forward as I locked eyes with her.

  She began to say something, but her face turned white and I watched as her eyes rolled back in her head just before she fell to the floor. I saw it coming, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t catch her before she hit the floor because of these fucking cuffs. I tried to force my way out of them, but it was no use. “She needs a fucking ambulance,” I yelled. “Call a goddamned ambulance!”

  “Calm down, sir. The ambulance is on its way,” the cop said to me as he shoved me out the door and down to the waiting police car.

  Chapter 24

  Nixon

  My fists clenched under the table while the douchebag investigator tried to get me to talk. I didn’t care how long he planned on keeping up his tough guy charade. I wasn’t saying a fucking word. I already told him that after he wouldn’t tell me how Brooklyn was. You think he would’ve shut his fucking mouth at this point. Nope. He just kept on going. The one thing about life as a champion fighter was that you never lost focus, no matter how hard your opponent tried to make you. Still, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to jump across the table, and bloody the fuck out of this guy.

  I knew he knew where Brooklyn was, and the fact that he wouldn’t tell me, was driving me mad. It was as if he wanted me to hit him. Fucking moron. Didn’t he know one punch would have him laid out?

  He loosened his tie and stood up, clearly annoyed his scare tactics weren’t working on me. “Nixon, you were caught standing over the body with a knife in your hand. The woman across the hall heard you previously make death threats. Just tell me exactly what happened and we can call it a night.”

  That old bitch across the hall had poked her head out and watched me get taken away. I should’ve known she would gladly talk to anyone who would listen.

  I pursed my lips and finally spoke. “I’ll talk when my lawyer’s here. Until then, you’re wasting your fucking time.”

  It didn’t keep him from shutting his mouth, but I tuned him out. My mind was barely in the room with me anyway. I
t was with Brooklyn. The fear in her eyes as I took the knife out of her hands and the realization finally setting in, was haunting me. Before I even had time to comfort her, or take her in my arms and tell her the bastard deserved every stab wound she delivered, the cops barged in and had me in cuffs.

  And then she collapsed, and there was nothing I could fucking do. I didn’t even know if she was okay. The anger simmered inside me, and I cracked each knuckle to try and calm the over-powering rage. I was losing my goddamned mind, and there was no bag for me to punch. No girl to fuck. Not that I would even think of it. Ever since Brooklyn came into my life, sex just hadn’t been the same. The only girl I needed was Brooklyn… if she was even alive.

  I saw her, touched her for a brief moment, but who knew how deep and serious her injuries were. Guys walked out of the cage a bloody, battered mess, with hopes to redeem themselves, to only drop dead hours later and never return.

  Her opponent was bigger than her, stronger. The force behind his blows… I winced at the thought.

  I ran out of knuckles to crack, and was ready to start ripping my hair out when someone poked their head into the room.

  The shithead investigator walked over to the woman, and shared a few whispers before returning. “Your lawyer is here,” he said, obviously disappointed he didn’t get me to break first.

  Beckham actually came through for me. Not that I doubted he would. As much of an asshole as I’d been to both him and Kennedy, he’d do anything to try and fix his betrayal.

  “Nixon.” Mr. Fox, Beckham’s father, strolled in like he owned the damn place. His dark gray suit was impeccable and showed he meant business. He was a fucking asshole who Beckham couldn’t stand, but I always liked him. He didn’t take shit from anyone, and because of that, he was at the top of his game in his field. The opposition feared him, judges respected him, and his clients always walked away victorious. I had no doubt in my mind that I’d be out of here by morning.

  “Mr. Fox.” I stood up to shake his hand. “I appreciate you coming.” He accepted my hand with a firm grasp.

  “I’m just happy for once it’s not my son I’m bailing out,” he stated dryly and I laughed, remembering the time Beckham got caught “breaking and entering.” Turned out, he was just sneaking into some slut’s bedroom, and he got caught like a jackass. “Have you called your parents?”

  My jaw ticked at his question. “No,” I spat. “Let’s keep them out of this.”

  He placed his briefcase on the table and pushed the clasps, causing it to pop open as he sat. “Fine. I got briefed on my way here. I have a case in the morning and don’t want to waste any time. Why don’t you begin by telling me what happened?”

  I started at the beginning. I told him how Brooklyn came to the gym, how she flinched when I got close to her, the bruises I had seen when we met earlier that night, and how it was clear she was broken and scared.

  “What I need to know is why you were there, and why you were holding the knife.”

  “She had fucking bruises on her arms. I shouldn’t have let her go back to him to begin with. And, when I finally realized that, I went after her, but…” I ran a hand over my face, disgusted with myself for allowing her to go back there alone. I glanced up and admitted my first and only regret. “I was too late. He was already dead. She was crouched over him with the knife.”

  “So she killed him, not you,” Mr. Fox said, so matter-of-factly it pissed me off.

  I slammed my hand on the table. “He beat the shit out of her. If she didn’t, I would’ve done it my fucking self.”

  “We’re not here to talk about the what ifs. We’re here to discuss the facts. And the fact is, she committed the crime not you.”

  “It was self-defense.”

  Mr. Fox leaned back in his chair and nodded. “You said he beat her up.”

  “When I got there, her eye was swollen shut, she was bleeding, and she collapsed as they took me away.” I rested my hands on my head, and tugged at the tips of my hair. “I don’t even know if she’s okay.”

  “The proof is there. I’ll find out where she is. And, if it was self-defense like you said it was, then they don’t have a case. But the problem is, you were holding the knife.”

  “If I wanted to kill him, I wouldn’t need a fucking weapon. My body is my weapon. I could’ve killed him in twenty different moves without breaking a sweat,” I growled through my teeth.

  “Understood, but the prosecutor may not see it that way.”

  “I saw a friend in need and I tried to take her out of the situation without thinking where it would land me. Stupid decision. Wrong place, wrong time. Pick one. And I can guarantee her finger prints are on that knife, too. If I killed him, why would she have ever held that knife?”

  He nodded, and I knew he believed me. “I’ll find her. Talk to her. Get her side, and make sure the two stories line up. If they do, you’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

  He closed his briefcase and stood. I shook his hand again. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and headed to the door.

  “And Mr. Fox?”

  He stopped and turned around.

  “The only way I want out of here is if you can guarantee the both of us are free. She is never to step foot into this place.”

  “Are you saying that you’re willing to take the fall if it comes to that?”

  “I fucked up once, and I won’t do it again. Whatever I have to do to keep her safe, I’m going to do it.”

  “What if I can’t guarantee you that?”

  I looked straight at him and shrugged. “Then it was nice knowing you.”

  Chapter 25

  Everything hurt. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. My eyelids weighed five hundred pounds and I wasn’t strong enough. But I was! I killed him. I killed the bastard. I stabbed him and ended his life before he could end mine.

  I felt no guilt only relief.

  I wanted to tell Nixon that I remembered everything he taught me. Nixon. Oh no. They had him! They arrested him for a crime he didn’t commit. It was me! I tried to scream but the words didn’t come out. I tried again, but it was useless, all that I was met with was silence.

  He came for me and now he was taking the fall for me. Everything that I hoped to avoid was happening. No! It was me! I tried to scream again, fight the blackness that was growing. It was me! Silence rang in my ear as I sank into darkness.

  ***

  Nixon

  Morning had come and gone, yet there was still no word from Mr. Fox. I was beginning to think the small cell with the uncomfortable mattress would be my home for the rest of my life when I heard footsteps.

  I sat up and peered through the bars to see an officer walking toward me. I tried not to get my hopes up since the same guy had passed by several times before. This time, though, he stopped in front of me.

  “Nixon Bennett, you’re out of here.”

  I jumped up from the thin, lumpy mattress, and went right to the bars. As they parted and I stepped into my freedom, I only had one thing on my mind. Brooklyn. I needed to find her. To see her. To hold her in my arms, and make sure she was okay.

  The desire to run was strong, but I knew I wasn’t really free just yet. There was a process, and I needed to get my things. So, I went through the motions, trying to keep my cool, but losing it more than once. Finally, an hour later, I was stepping out and into the waiting area.

  I went to beeline for the door when I spotted Beckham. He got up from the chair. He looked like I felt, absolute shit.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked.

  He tugged at that stupid pile of hair on his head and smiled. “Figured you’d need a ride home.”

  “You flew across the fucking country to drive me somewhere that’s ten minutes away?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “More like a waste of time. I can find my own ride.” I pushed out the door and walked outside, figuring I could walk to the hospi
tal, if that’s where Brooklyn even was. It was a place to start though.

  “Can you for two seconds stop being a fucking dick?” Beckham yelled after me.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “So that’s it? Ten years of friendship down the fucking drain.”

  I didn’t say anything. The silence was enough of a response.

  “I called my dad for you.”

  “Would you like a cookie?” I moved around him and continued toward the street, but he kept following.

  “You fucking son of a bitch. You know how much I hate that man. I did you a goddamned favor. The least you can do is thank me.”

  “Thank you! For what? Fucking my sister? Choosing her over me? Doing the one fucking thing I asked you not to do? It’ll be a cold day in hell before I thank you. Consider us even. Now, get the fuck away from me.”

  “I could, but then you wouldn’t know where Brooklyn is.”

  I spun around, grabbed him by his t-shirt, and yanked him to me. “Where is she?” My jaw clenched and my teeth ground against each other.

  “Are you going to stop acting like an asshole?” Beckham asked, not even batting an eye at my death grip.

  I tightened my hold on him, and wound my hand back, ready to knock him the fuck out.

  “Go ahead. Hit me. Then, I’ll go inside, press charges, and get your ass thrown back behind those bars. Or you can let me go, talk to me like the fucking man I know you can be, and I’ll tell you where to find your girl. I’ll even drive you there.”

  My fingers dug into the material of his shirt, hauling him closer before I shoved him away. “Dick move,” I growled.

  “What can I say? I learned from the best.”

  I smirked despite myself. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in the car. We’ve already wasted enough fucking time.”

  We hopped into Beckham’s rental, and he headed west. “She’s at the hospital. My dad said she’ll be okay, but they’re holding her for a few more tests. He also said she’s had no visitors. Apparently, she moved here to get away from the guy, and has no one.”